


With Every Ending, a New Beginning

by hardboiledbaby



Series: A New Beginning [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardboiledbaby/pseuds/hardboiledbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes wants to retire, but Watson takes some convincing. </p><p>The aftermath of the events of "The Adventure of the Three Garridebs" and prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1910397">"I Give Him Flowers."</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	With Every Ending, a New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Late fill for the Watsons_Woes 2014 July Writing Prompts Challenge, prompt #31 - The End in the Beginning: Every story's beginning is some other story's end.

"No. I told you before, the idea is ludicrous." Watson's unequivocal tone was meant to brook no argument, but he had been avoiding this issue for over a fortnight, and I would be put off no longer. 

"Why?" I demanded; somewhat impatiently, I fear. "Surely you did not expect us to be working forever?" 

"We are hardly in our dotage yet," he protested. "We are neither of us decrepit, doddering old men."

"Of course not, and that is precisely to the point. We should retire whilst we are yet young enough to enjoy it."

He did not deign to respond beyond tightening his lips and setting his jaw. Watson's stubborn streak often presented itself at the most inconvenient times, and this was no exception. I sighed inwardly and tried another tack.

"They say that with every ending, there is a new beginning," I began, but he would have none of it.

"Conversely, then, with every beginning, something else must end," he retorted. "I do not want—" He faltered, then tried to press on. "Your work, Holmes. It should not end because I was so careless as to—" With a grimace of self-loathing, he stopped. His hand stole to where Killer Evans's bullet grazed his thigh, only a month previous. 

_Careless?_ I thought. _Oh, John._ Any carelessness was on my part, not his. I had placed him in harm's way far too often over the years. No more.

Aloud, I corrected him with the proper amount of pedanticism, "Your injury, regrettable though it was, is not the reason I propose retirement." 

Watson eyed me skeptically.

Drawing his hand away from his leg, I said, "I have dedicated most of my life—and a not inconsiderable portion of your own—to solving the puzzles and problems of others. A unique and worthy profession. However, I hear that the world has other pleasures to offer, pleasures best experienced at leisure, and in private." I brought Watson's hand up to my lips and kissed it. I managed it quite gallantly, I might add; Watson is very accomplished in this activity, and I would be a poor observer indeed had I not acquired the knack by now. "Country living offers an unparalleled opportunity for such pastimes, you must agree."

Watson coughed. "Yes. Well." He rubbed at his mustache with his free hand, but there was no hiding his pleased smile, not from me.

"I know not what future adventures are yet in store for us," I continued, "but rest assured we will find them, wherever we may be. Or they will find us." That won me a chuckle, and it warmed me from the inside out. I had missed his easy laughter, these past two weeks. "In the meantime, we will not be idle. I trust it will not matter to you whether your writing desk is in London or in Sussex."

"No, I suppose not," he said with a sigh. He paused in contemplation for a moment, then fixed me with his blue eyes slightly narrowed. "You truly wish to retire for this reason, and not the other? Swear it."

"I solemnly swear that I wish to retire solely so as to partake in leisurely, private pleasures. With you." 

It was not difficult to say, especially as I was sufficiently motivated. My ability to prevaricate convincingly is, I realise, a significant character flaw, but he loves me despite my many faults, and so I am less remorseful over my lapses than I ought to be. It was not precisely a lie, after all, merely an accelerated timetable. 

My dear boy studied my face for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, Holmes." 

Bless his beautiful, trusting heart. I renewed another solemn vow, one I swore to myself long ago, that I would protect him and his heart for the remainder of my days. Then I kissed him properly.

Later, Watson said, "Sussex, you said. Did you mean there, specifically?"

"In fact, I did," I replied. "I have my eye on a property in South Downs. If my deductions are correct, it will be available for purchase sometime next summer."

"Of course your deductions are correct," he said, smiling. "A year. Well, at least that gives us some time to prepare. Good heavens. Whatever will you do with yourself in the wilds of South Downs, Holmes?"

 _Ah, yes._ I reached into the nightstand drawer next to my side of the bed. Watson knew me so well, but I suspected that I could surprise him still. I handed him a slim volume and waited for his reaction. I was not disappointed.

"Beekeeping?"


End file.
